


Fairy Lights

by tastethewaste



Category: Rocketman (2019) RPF
Genre: Fluff, M/M, seriously this is just fluff on fluff on fluff, the kind of fluff that rots your teeth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-30
Updated: 2019-10-30
Packaged: 2021-01-13 04:42:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21238355
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tastethewaste/pseuds/tastethewaste
Summary: Taron waxes poetic about what he and Richard's wedding day might be like.





	Fairy Lights

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted to my Tumblr account a couple of months ago, so if it seems familiar, that's why :) Just thought I'd share on AO3 since I haven't posted any of my "drabbles" (I use that term loosely as this clocks in at close to 1200 words) here before. Thank you for reading :)

“What if we got married?” Taron asks this lazily, in the middle of the day, as if the question is inconsequential, as if he was asking Richard if he wanted meatloaf for dinner or what movie he wanted to watch. They are laying on Richard’s bed, and Taron is nestled perfectly in Richard’s embrace, his body curved tightly against Richard’s. 

Before Taron spoke, all Richard’s been able to think about is how perfect he is, how perfect _this_ is, how nauseatingly, sappily _wonderful_ it is. If you’d asked Richard Madden what he’d been expecting to get out of the filming of _Rocketman_, he might have answered something vague about the satisfaction of telling the story of a legend, of new friendships, of the integrity of film. He would not, however, had expected to get Taron David Egerton, on his bed, in his arms, on a rainy Sunday afternoon. 

Then Taron has asked the question, and Richard is eyeing him with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. “What if we got _married?_” he asks. 

“Yeah,” Taron says simply, his answer almost lost in the beat of the rain on the roof. 

“Darling, we’ve only been dating for three weeks.” 

Taron smiles up at Richard, and he’s weak. “As if I’d ever do better than you.” _Oh._

Taron slides up closer to Richard, faces him so they are eye-to-eye. Richard’s struck by how beautiful this man is, again. How sweet and soft and eager and kind he is. He is not an impulsive man, and has always criticized those who jump headfirst into marriage after a brief courting, but with Taron there, looking that way, staring into his eyes, he can suddenly understand those people. 

“Can you picture it, Rich?” Taron says softly, his voice merely a whisper, and Richard responds by cocking his head just slightly. “Our wedding?” 

“Tell me what it’d be like, T,” Richard says quietly. Taron nods, and slides his hand down Richard’s body, settling on his hip. He squeezes Richard’s hip, just gently.

“Well, it’d be in the fall, obviously. We’re not spring wedding blokes,” Taron says, and his eyes are scanning Richard’s face, memorizing every detail. “No beaches, no backyards, no cheesy reception halls. No, we’d have it in the fall, and the reception would be a huge party in an old barn. The kind of barn that every mid-twenties girl who spends too much time planning her wedding on the internet would go mental for, and it’d be a cliche, Rich, but it’d be _our_ cliche and it’d be lovely.” The word _lovely_ falls out of Taron’s mouth, tastes like the rain beating steadily on the roof. 

Richard can see the picture that Taron is painting and he doesn’t want him to stop. “Go on,” he says, his hand moving up and settling behind Taron’s head, his thumb stroking the soft skin gently. 

“There’d be these little fairy lights everywhere, and mason jars with flowers because I said it’d be a cliche, but it’d be gorgeous. We’d have the most fantastic food, whatever you want because I’m not picky, and it’d be an open bar, o’course, because it has to be,” Taron says with a small laugh. Richard chuckles also and nods, mesmerized. 

“Elton’d sing, obviously,” Taron says, a cheeky grin plastered on his face. “He’d give a sappy toast and I’d blubber like a goddamn baby, then he’d sing, something from one of his albums that isn’t a greatest hit, y’know? _We All Fall In Love Sometimes_ from _Captain Fantastic_, maybe. It’d be fuckin’ lovely. Bernie would cry. Dex would get drunk and give a sappy toast of his own, and then we’d just have a blast all night. I’d drink too much because I’d just be so fuckin’ happy that I couldn’t help myself, and you’d be a little annoyed but not too, because you find me charming.” Richard rolls his eyes dramatically, but he’s right, he’s always right. 

“Alright, sharp stuff. You’ve got the party all planned out. What about the part where we actually get, y’know, married?” Richard says with a laugh. 

“Oh, that,” Taron says, and he pushes his body closer to Richard, so close their noses are almost touching. “I saved that part because it’s my favorite.” 

“Your favorite?” Richard asks, and his voice is low and husky and full of need. 

“Yeah. It’s the part where I get to be with you forever, so it’s my favorite,” Taron says simply, and Richard’s heart swells, aches. “I know it might sound silly but it’s at a little church, okay? It’ll make my mum happy and yours too. We don’t see each other before because it’s bad luck and I believe in that shit,” Taron says sternly. 

“Superstitious?” Richard asks, and Taron nods. 

“Anyways, we don’t see each other before, and everyone’s at the church. Both of our families, all of our friends. Elton’s my best man, and Jamie’s yours. I look absolutely impeccable in this gorgeous navy blue suit, and you? Well, you’re the only man I ever want to see wear a white suit again, because you look fucking flawless, I can see it in my mind, and that grey streak in your hair is the star of the fucking show,” Taron says, his eyes dripping with desire. 

“It’s short, the ceremony. None of those gratuitous hour-long ceremonies where a minister waxes and wanes about love until everyone’s bored out of their skull. He says a few words and then we exchange our vows. Mine are long, though, and sappy, and I talk about how much I love you and how I’ll always love you and I’ll say something cheesy about dancing under the stars with you, and you’ll cry, because I’m that good,” Taron says teasingly, but Richard doesn’t laugh because it isn’t funny, he can hear it, and it’s _beautiful_, and he is full of aching need that has nothing to do with sex. “Your vows, love, are short, sweet, and to the point. You love me. You need me. But most importantly, you _want_ me, and you _choose_ me, and that’s…it’s fucking _everything_, Rich,” Taron says softly, a lump of tears rising in his throat. Richard nods, fighting back his own tears. 

“And then we say ‘I do’, and we…” Taron places a hand on Richard’s face and pulls him close, and he kisses him exactly the way he would if they were in that tiny church in front of everyone, and it’s soft and tender, passionate and present. Richard gasps when it’s over. 

After they’re done kissing, they stare at each other, just stare. “You’ve given this a lot of thought, eh, T?” Richard says finally, his voice shy and his face soft, suddenly feeling vulnerable. 

“Eh, not really, just thinking out loud, I suppose,” Taron says, a mischievous grin on his face. 

“You’re just ‘thinking out loud’ and you know we’re going to have fairy lights?” 

Taron laughs and a blush rises to his cheeks, and leans his forehead against Richard’s. “Yes. Fairy lights. It’s the only part of our day I’m unwilling to compromise on.”


End file.
